Angel Tears
by Silver Moon Angel
Summary: He had his mother's angelic looks and his father's devilish heart. When his angel is beaten and murdered, why won't they cry for him?
1. Draco's Burden

Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban. Why? For Killing Narcissa Malfoy. And did they care? No, they didn't.  
  
It had been horrible; Lucius had always just beaten Draco. Never before had he touched Narcissa. It just got more and more terrifying with each beating. He beat Draco for no reason. Just no reason. He was a Malfoy, He didn't need a reason. And truly, who would question him? A former Death Eater, rich, and powerful. Lucius Malfoy was a man who had it all. A beautiful wife, a faithful heir, money, power, influence, and respect.  
  
But now, the beatings weren't the same. Lucius was resorting to alcohol after the fall of Voldemort. They weren't beatings with anymore. They were full out attacks. No more was Lucius merciful to Draco's handsome face, he just attacked anywhere in a drunken rage. And no more did he just use muggle methods. He had started using the Cruciatus Curse. Draco was a powerful wizard with strength to rival Harry's. Yet, Harry had something that Draco didn't have. Harry had people to cry for him, to support him, to hug him and to tell him that everything would be okay.  
  
What Draco had was the best trained mediwizards that money could fine\d, the most loyal servants, and his Mother. He didn't have her any more. Forget the mediwizards, forget the servants, Draco Malfoy wanted his mother. Or at the very least, someone to cry for him.  
  
But he would never ask. Never. The world could dissaparate underneath his very feet and he would never cry out, his father wouldn't let him let cry. His heritage didn't allow him to cry. His pride couldn't let him cry. If he did, he would fall apart.  
  
As it was Draco was already going to bits and pieces. His platinum hair no longer glowed. His face no longer held its smug smirk but a gallery of glamoured bruises. Draco shuddered to think of what would happen if some one called out "finite incantatem". The bruises would show and every one would know his secret. Then, they wouldn't cry for him, but laugh at him. He was a Slytherin. He was that which HAILED the Silver and Green. And most of all, most of all he was a Malfoy. He was above the rest of them. Above that Gryffindor slime.  
  
Lucius Malfoy hadn't needed to tell teach that sort of hatred. In ran in Draco's blood. It secreted in Draco's sweat. It was in his very CHROMOSOMES. Draco Malfoy was taught, though, to show that hatred every possible way. He hurled it at that mudblood Granger. At that poverty stricken Weasly. And most of all at that golden boy Harry Potter.  
  
Oh, but the world didn't know Draco's burden. That Draco envied the Gryffindor Trio. The fact that they cried for each other. And to top it all up: Draco hated them more for it.  
  
If he only knew that that hatred wouldn't last... 


	2. Hermione's Lust

I don't own Harry Potter. Yeah that's it. What were you expecting? A funny statement? __________________ ________________________________________________________________________  
  
Harry, Ron, her teachers. They all saw her as a girl. No matter that she had helped Harry defeat Voldemort their 6th year. Nope, she was still a girl. And it didn't help either that she had to wear a badge saying Head GIRL. She had estrogen. A body. Not just a mind. She had lust.  
  
For him. The most forbidden of them all. Draco Malfoy. It had started when Lucius killed Narcissa. Hermione was always the kind of person who wanted to take in some stray animal. Help the poor thing, which was why she had had a crush on Harry for 5 years. He had needed it, to be fondled by her when his scar hurt, when he had bad dreams, when he needed somebody's shoulder to cry on . Virginia Weasly had filled that position now. Harry didn't need her anymore and she didn't have that crush on him anymore. She had never seen that in Ron and so she didn't want him. Now, she saw it in Draco. Like every other person in the school she ignored it though. He was a Slytherin and a Malfoy to top it all off. She had no chance. And if she did she wouldn't take it. Would she? It made her sick to her stomach. The fact that she wanted a person who despised her for everything that she was. A female, a Gryffindor, and a muggle-born. Yet his silver hair made her go mad. Silver eyes, pale face, lean and slender runner's build. He drove her wild. Yet she liked his imperfections even more. The way his hair had a natural white streak underneath the silver top layer. The way his eyelashes were a little uneven towards the end. The way his lips were pinker in the middle than on the edges. She noticed it all and a lot more to be truthful. Yet to be in love with him was total lunacy. Hermione had never believed that love was just going to rush up on her. The way her infatuation with Draco had rushed upon her.  
  
There was also peer pressure. Everyone just EXPECTED her to end up marrying Harry like it was her destiny. And if they couldn't have that, they wanted her with Ron. It was unfair, that they try to make her do that. And make was the important word here. Lavender had left Ron at the 5th year ball just so she and Ron could be alone together that night. Parvarti and Seamus had actually gone through all of the trouble to set them up on a blind date.  
  
Hermione was a pretty. Once bushy hair was now sleek and straight. Once pale cheeks held color. She had filled out. Harry and Ron HAD noticed. Yet Hermione's beauty and charm were no match for Ginny's. Virginia was positively beautiful. Full red curls, rose colored cheeks, hot pink lips, and curvy. Small and agile, Ginny was an awesome chaser, she was polite and funny, and always the center of attention at parties. Harry loved her. Harry, unlike Hermione, was an avid believer of falling in love quickly.  
  
Ron on the other hand was currently in the process of denying his feelings for Hermione. He wasn't in love but he was certainly interested in Hermione. Ron was more interested though in Parvarti. He didn't know that her looks were just as good a glamour as Draco's. She wasn't pretty in the least. Parvarti was no Gryffindor by heart. She had been put into Gryffindor because she, like Harry, had chosen to be there. Well, Parvarti had positively BEGGED the sorting hat. She was brave enough to be there yet she had none of the Gryffindoric traits. The loyalty, the faith, the strength, the Righteousness. She would sell out anyone in seconds if it suited her. Lavender, who was currently dating some 7th year Ravenclaw, helped her out with the glamour. Parvarti was no where near smart enough to do it. Lavender was beautiful. Not as much as Ginny, but beautiful none the less. Lavender was almost always under rated by the school and her teachers. Her problem was that she wanted Ronald. Perhaps that was why 4th year in Professor Trelawney's room, the Prof. had said to beware a red headed man.  
  
Hogwarts is a school which will always hold more secrets than Malfoy Mansion. Draco's and Hermione's were only one..yet it just might be the greatest. 


	3. Draco's Curse

I don't own Harry Potter. What were you expecting? A funny statement? ____________________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________  
  
Draco hated the Moon. Hated the way the color reminded him of his hair. How his hair reminded him of his father's hair. How his father killed his mother.  
  
Yet Draco lived for the night. It was rare knowledge, but the Malfoy family carried vampire blood. Over the centuries the more popular traits had died out, the thirst for blood, the fear of sunlight, the canine elongation, the prolonged life. Yet some traits were still there, the silver eyes, the paleness, the thirst for death, the catlike grace and agility, the power.  
  
Tonight was one of the few when the Moon was hidden. He always took full advantage of these nights. The glamour he wore all day long drained him of his power and he could hold no Silencing spell. These were the times when he positively HOWLED. Cried out his frustration, his hatred, his love, his evilness, his purity. He had to do it himself. No one else would. It would be one of these nights when he went. Clear, arid, and Moonless. Just perfect.  
  
Draco stepped into the Forbidden Forest's clearing. This was his spot. The spot where he allowed himself pity and how Draco scorned himself for that.  
  
He sat down at the edge of the clearing, just about to begin his ritual. The sharp silver eyes caught movement. What was she doing at this time of night? He had a bad view of the lake and could just make out her face in the little starlight they did have. Draco did his trademark. The Malfoy Smirk.  
  
This was the perfect time to get back at that perfect little know-it-all mudblood. It would take all that Draco had left but..  
  
Draco lifted the glamour showing the pin, purple, blue, and black array of bruises that covered his facial features. He pushed back his robe sleeves and flicked the silver locks out off his face. Feet planted apart, Draco uttered the words to the spell.  
  
Hermione went down. NO WAY was this mudblood going to be his first homicide. If he lived long enough to go to the Dark Lord's side he would kill a wizard with skills to match his own. She didn't deserve this honor. The force of the spell that Draco had sent had sent her flying, unconscious, into the lake. Just waiting to drown softly.  
  
Draco didn't have enough power for an accio spell so he started to walk.. 


	4. Draco's Rebellion

I don't own Harry Potter. What were you expecting, a funny statement?_ ____________________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________  
  
He had hit her with a Goodness Spell. It was Draco's own little twisted invention. He loved the irony so. The fact that the good in you was causing you pain, that your own decency was your downfall, that the power of the spell and the pain it inflicted on you was equal only to the level of morality you had. He had setting out to do it, knowing what it could and would do, and loving the perverseness and the irony. What Draco didn't know was that it was fatal, to Harry Potter. One might think it ineffective on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but so long as there was true life within one's body, there was goodness and there was darkness, and there was no denying that at one time the Dark Lord had been alive. He had taken almost as many lives with his bare hands than as his wand.  
  
If one thought about it, Harry had given Draco another reason to hate him because if Harry had never killed the Dark Lord, his mother would still be alive. It raised the level of hatred that Draco harbored for him, and therefore it raised level of overall hatred.  
  
He dragged her out of the pitch back, ice-cold water like she had some disease that could be transmitted to him. He could see she wasn't breathing, and if he hadn't have wanted a special first homicide, then he wouldn't have cared. He had nothing left to do a Revival Spell with. And there was no way on the Dark Lord's dead earth that he was performing muggle CPR.  
  
So Draco stomped his right Salem Short-Snout dragon hide boot heel into Hermione's stomach. She came to after about six or seven stomps, spitting crimson blood that was the darkest burgundy in the small bit of light from the stars. It hardly contrasted with the black of the grass, the black of the sky, and the black of the water. It was all ebony. The only things that stopped the areas from being one world where neither sky or ground or lake existed were the great gray brick walls of Hogwarts and the illuminated towers.  
  
Draco wasn't worried about the internal bleeding either. Draco knew that she was a good witch despite her being a mudblood. So did Draco's father and Draco had the scars to prove it. He was not allowed to be second best and the fact that it was a mudblood that was beating him only added to the intensity of the hits. Lucius knew not the meaning of mercy, may it be his heir or otherwise.  
  
At least those hits had meanings though, because sometimes, when Lucius was in an especially foul mood, he would use Draco's body as a way to release tension, he would hit him and hit him and hit him. Those were the worst beatings, when there was no legitimate reason for beating him, simply because the hurt wasn't just physical, it was emotional. Once upon a time Draco could deny that what his father thought of him mattered to him. Now though, Lucius had gone too far, he had taken the ONE person that Draco loved. She was his mother, his rock, his stability, his air, and his life. Oh but he had taken the whole fucking cake when he hit her.  
  
If Draco could have spontaneously combusted, he would have. As it was, he almost did, and as Draco stood there looking at the mudblood filth, it hit him. Why the hell was he still listening to the man who had taken away his reason to live? And so Draco decided, on the spot, to rebel. He was going to do the thing that his father forbid the most, he was going to kill what Azkaban could not, his father's pride. He was going to poison the Malfoy family name, and what better way to start than with this girl. Opportunity was not knocking at his door but half-conscious at his feet, and its name was Hermione Granger. 


	5. Hermione's Silver Star

The first thing she felt waking up was the pain in her mid-torso. It hurt like hell. She felt lightheaded and disoriented. Someone was picking her up, and she wondered if it was her assailant. So much fear went through her that she nearly threw up, but she stopped because of the gentleness that the person was carrying her with. She felt the arms and they were long and muscled, it was Harry. She smiled, forever the hero Harry Potter was.  
  
She touched his face to feel his lips so she could place a friendly thank you kiss upon him but she stopped in her tracks because of the hair. It was straight, soft, and partially wet. Harry's was tousled, silken, and heavy. Maybe it was straight because it was somewhat wet, and so she continued this movement until she came to his nose, then she wrenched herself out of his arms and screamed.  
  
The person was not wearing glasses. Harry would never not wear his glasses. They had talked about it in fifth year. He said he might wear contacts now because Ginny had suggested it. Then they agreed that he would still wear them because they were a part of the famous Harry Potter Image. A scrawny boy in a striped long-sleeved shirt, blue jeans, a black robe, gold-rimmed round glasses with tape on the nose, bright green eyes, and tousled black hair. Harry would never rid himself of it and to try to do so would be to deny the wizarding world of the Boy Who Lived, Voldemort's downfall, and all around hero: Harry Potter.  
  
As she fell to the ground Hermione caught a glimpse of silver. Only one person in school had hair like that, Draco Malfoy. She started to scream and try to move back but she met the water. She couldn't find her wand, what would he do to-  
  
"Jesus Granger, stop bloody screaming," Malfoy said.  
  
It surprised her, there was no malice, but that didn't mean anything. And then she thought that maybe she had imagined that there was no malice. She was infatuated with Malfoy and maybe she was imagining that he was infatuated with her, that she had held him gently. But she hadn't known that it was him at the time she was holding him. The silver eyes stopped her train of thought as she looked up at him.  
  
"This is Draco Malfoy, cold and cruel Slytherin no matter that his mother died and his father's in Azkaban. It probably made him even more bitter, enough to attack me for no reason," she thought. "Did you attack me," she asked.  
  
"Well," Draco started, but it was enough for Hermione to know the truth. She started to curse him out mindlessly, forgetting his mother was dead.  
  
"Son of a-," she started but she didn't finish because she remembered. It was too much, she had gone too far. The look in the silver-haired boy was the most frightening look she had ever seen. It was beyond the word homicidal. She had never seen anything like it before in her life and she wished to the Gods that she didn't ever see it again. Hermione swiftly said a silent prayer because she thought that she would die very soon. It all happened so quickly. The lift, the exhaustion, the drop, the hit, the closure. The lift of his want as he opened his mouth to say what Hermione was sure was Avada Kedavra, the killing curse. The exhaustion as one silent tear fell down Draco's cheek and let out a small breath, he was tired, so tired and so drained, and so powerful, and so alert. The drop as Draco's body hit the almost ebony ground with no sound. Or maybe it was in Hermione's head that there was no sound. The closure of those beautiful, haunting, mysterious, silver eyes as he passed out.  
  
Draco Malfoy was passed out at her feet and she wasn't that much better than him. That tear that had dropped from his face before he fainted shone in the ebony grass like a silver star. Hermione didn't know what possessed her to do it but she collected that Silver Star in one of her potion vials before using the Wingardium Leviosa charm to levitate Malfoy as she took him to the infirmary. It used to be his tear, now it was her star. 


	6. Draco's Unknown

He felt a little sick, this mud- this girl, was feeling him up. Touching his arms and then his neck, he almost admitted to himself that he was rather enjoying himself but Hermione stopped before he could and almost doesn't count. He wondered why, and then she continued to his face and touched his nose. Suddenly the brown haired girl jerked violently and Draco dropped her. She could have never just gotten away, he was much stronger than he looked, but there was no way he was going to fight her. Then Hermione looked at him and started to scream.  
  
"Jesus Granger, stop bloody screaming," Draco said. He knew good and well why she was acting this way and he didn't blame her. He held out his hand to her but she didn't take it. Draco didn't expect her to and he really didn't want her to. He didn't want to touch her but he would have to touch if he was to play his father's game and win.  
  
She looked up at him with dilated pupils in her hazel eyes, "Did you attack me?"  
  
Draco had had a lie good and ready; he was just as graceful in body as he was graceful in tongue. He could talk a penny into becoming a nickel, just as dangerous with his mouth as with his wand. "Well," he began, but he could already see in Hermione's eyes that she knew the truth. He braced himself form attack of insults and readied himself for the attack of her wand.  
  
"Son of a-"  
  
It was the one thing he wasn't capable of keeping cool about. She had died for him, his angel, and his mother. She had cried angelic tears of sorrow and yet happiness for him. Sorrow that Lucius was hitting her and could not change, happiness at the fact that it was her and not her son that was receiving this attack.  
  
He couldn't take it; he shouldn't have to take it. Would anyone call Harry Potter's mum a bitch? Hadn't his mother done the same thing as Harry's? Save her son? Did the fact that she was a Malfoy make it meaningless? All the rage that he had been feeling for the past month built up inside, oh but that wasn't it. The hatred was added to it, the innate hatred of her being a mudblood, a Gryffindor, a friend of Harry Potter's. Rage wasn't a good enough word for it, it was something so different. It was intoxicating, the power that came with the rage, it was scary, it was the amount of rage he felt, was it possible to feel this without combusting, it was hatred, it was rage, and the human race had found no word for it yet. It was rage, hatred, vehemence, ferocity, fury, wrath, and ire. Did they have a word for that yet? Would they ever find a word for it?  
  
He didn't have to take it.  
  
He would have killed her then, there was no more worthy way to have his first kill than to have it be to protect the honor and virtue of an angel.  
  
Yet something changed, he didn't know what it was. All here knew was that it disappeared, the "unknown" disappeared and it left him stripped. He was naked. He had robes on him yes, but everything else was stripped from him. He was exposed. He had no glamour and he suddenly realized that she could see his bruises, his father's bodily gallery on his heir. He had no rage, no power, no glamour, and no angel, no one to cry for him. He was exposed as Draco Malfoy, the un-magnificent and the un-respectable, the piece of shit in the road of the Malfoy bloodline, the downfall of it.  
  
Suddenly he was so exhausted, he was tired of trying to live up to his father's expectation, tired of trying to rebel, tired of trying to beat Harry Potter, tired of trying to outdo Hermione Granger, tired of trying to cope with the death of an angel, tired of crying for himself, tired of playing his father's game, so so tired. And so he gave up, he let himself fall to the ground, caring not of what happened to him, and as he fell, letting one silver tear escape, he found out what he was truly tired of, being Draco Malfoy. 


End file.
